I am honored and grateful that Judith asked me to light the chalice before her sermon on Wounded Healers. This gives me a chance to share my experiences.

Even though I am a physician, I don’t often think of myself as a healer. More often I see myself as a detective.

Healing is more than that. I learned that from a Pakastani family whose children I cared for as a pediatrician. First I saw their 2 year old with a dislocated elbow. Well, standard treatment is like magic. The child is crying and won’t move his arm, you snap it back in place and soon he is smiling and waving at you. I treated their little boy and they were very happy. Months later, I saw his teenage sister with abdominal pain and vomiting and diarrhea. I tried to reassure them that it was just a stomach flu and to tell them how to treat it. They said “It doesn’t matter what you say, we know that if you just touch her she will be cured.” I think the magic of healing lies in understanding, trust and compassion.

Being wounded helps you understand another’s wounds, trust your own and the other person’s perceptions and be compassionate. My first brush with Cancer was when I was in my 30s. I had thyroid cancer and had a thyroidectomy and was kept hypothyroid for several weeks. For the first time in my life as a physician, I truly understood what it was like having no control: being wheeled around on a gurney while other people were walking; being so tired that I had to go back to bed after taking a shower. My experience helped me feel compassion when walking with my father in law who was out of breath from his heart condition.

I also learned how important my family and friends were and that I needed to enjoy life. Well after several years of no recurrence, I somehow got back into my old crazy hectic life.

As many of you know my latest wound is Breast Cancer. I was diagnosed in March 2007. I went from saying that I had a positive biopsy for breast cancer to saying that I have breast cancer. It was truly a life altering experience. I learned that I wasn’t afraid of dying, but more important I had so much more to live for.

Again, I learned that my family were the most important people to me and that they were there for me, crying with me, laughing with me, appreciating the good things that still were happening. Friends and colleagues were amazing, sending cards, flowers, calling to see how I was. My physicians and nurses were wonderful, funny, gentle and caring. When I got to the ice cold Operating Room, a nurse told me that the only thing warm in the Operating Room is the nurses’ hearts. Before I started chemotherapy, the radiation oncologist said “All of us are stronger than we think we are”. That was so encouraging. I don’t know that I was strong. I did have at least one moment in the Chemotherapy Infusion Center, looking at the doctors in white lab coats, thinking wait a minute, I’m supposed to be over there with them, not one of the bald ladies in an easy chair a with an IV going. But generally, I was just determined to get through everything and try to survive.

While I was in chemotherapy, I went to the Pasadena Wellness Center and joined a Cancer Support Group. I was amazed at how inspiring some of the sickest people were. The Group was talking about how hard it is to do what you think you should be able to do but can’t because of fatigue or nausea. During this discussion, I was sitting in front of a window and a gentleman who was soon to go into Hospice care, said you can always look out of the window and see a bird or a tree and really enjoy it for the moment. That’s Being in the Moment. The Group recognized that we all now have a new and different life, not what we had anticipated. We are living a New Normal.

I’ve been astounded at how many people “have been there for me”. Church members called to tell me about their cancer experience and were really encouraging. Another church member who was going through a life threatening experience, asked me if I was scared. I was so touched that he really understood what I was going through and was willing to risk saying that.

A long time friend from the gym who has survived 2 bouts of cancer went with me to chemotherapy early on. She introduced me to all of the nurses and helped me feel more comfortable.

Another friend suggested that I imagine the Aurora Borealis and see waves of color carrying love and healing. I found that so much more comforting than trying to imagine using a gun to kill the nasty cancer cells.

I certainly had some physical discomforts, but they were nothing compared to the emotional impact. Being scared, vulnerable, unsure about the future. It helped to think that life is worth living no matter what complications come and to keep going in a way that I never could have imagined.

I have already been able to use what I have learned from this experience. Recently, one of the nurses I work with and a Pediatric colleague I have known since we were pregnant together during Residency were diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I have felt privileged to talk with them and try to help them on their journey with Breast Cancer.

Being a Wounded Healer has taught me about compassion, the need to be kind to oneself and the importance of being there for others.

Not in Chalice message:
Judith read from Rachel Remen’s book Kitchen Table Wisdom. One quote really resonated with me: Long before there were surgeons, psychologists, oncologists and internists, we were there for each other.”